


Fallen Into Chaos

by Anihan (Nakagami)



Series: Daughters of Cupid, Sons of Men [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, The Fall - Freeform, The Nephilim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakagami/pseuds/Anihan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snapshots in Gabriel's life. Begins with the archangels in Heaven and continues until he is fully realized as Loki. </p><p><strong>Warnings are not given.</strong> Objectionable/painful topics within. </p><p>Once upon a time, I studied the archangels/angels/bibles/books of prophecy/etc. but since then I have become a teenager and entered college. If my words are not accurate to the Books, that's my bad. Feel free to point it out. I vaguely remember the stories I heard of Loki as a child. Same dealio with the books: Feel free to say whatever you'd like. </p><p>Con/crit welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Sought, I Saw, I Screamed

 

Lucifer came to me long before the Fall.

We stood - or an approximation thereof, bodiless as we were - together in Heaven with our brothers, just we two among the masses of communion, he, a steady passion at my side, and I, adrift in the newness of creation. His essence, what would one day be known as wings, brushed upon mine, and I bestowed upon him that which would become a smile. The smile he gave in return lit my existence. 

We withdrew from the aggregation to the place within Heaven that we had claimed for our own, a haven but for only the flight of archangels. None would be turned away from our door, true, for we would not horde our love, but none would go there without having been invited, and awaiting us there were only our highest brothers, the few beings I considered mine. 

Our names were as new as we were, and I knew them all. He that would in timebe called Michael was yet Mika'il by my Voice, and he came to Lucifer - called Sammael by us both - and I and embraced us heartily. As beings without bodies, this greeting was great-- however, I loved him in my time, just as I loved them all, and I welcomed the invasion. 

It was the first of many. 

Sammael stopped asking for permission, and Mika'il never had. I gave them all and in return they took from me my doubts, my fears, and gave to me my sacred calling; for I could Speak of what greatness I saw, and, in them, I saw only love. 

I know not what Mika'il saw in Heaven that I did not. It was he, not I, who knew when the Fall would come to pass, and he, not I, was there to suffer our world rent into thirds. 

A third of the Host rebelled, and among them was not I, not Mika'il, but Sammael. 

Mika'il came for me then, pulled me straight into another embrace. It burned, so I did not resist or keep from him any comfort. Through the flame, I knew what I-- what _we_ had lost. 

All of it. Every name that spoke 'betrayal' instead of 'brother' was written upon Mika'il's soul, and mine along with his. And across it all, across what would be my heart, across the backs of our "hands" where they "grasped", clutched, bringing the smallest hint of comfort to the ferocity of Mika'il's rage, I saw the one name I would never have expected, even if I had been aware of such a possibility. I saw not Sammael or Samil, but the name our Father had called him by, the bearer of His Light, His favorite and thus the Morning Star. 

And across from him on the battlefield, with Mika'il at my side, I heard him speak aloud for the first time. He spoke of ruin, of desecration, of pain-- 

"I love you still," spake the Morning Star. 


	2. And, When I Fell

I was Jabril at the time. Known by all for the water in my soul, my Grace carried that fluidity with me onto the mortal plane. The body I took was old, new, familiar in our first meeting; He and I, it seemed, were kindred in ways my kin knew nothing of. 

It was then, I think, that I began to Fall. 

I whispered words of failure among my half-siblings at my Father's request - but, I had thought, we were siblings in full, for weren't Men also God's creatures? Was it not, then, natural for me to love the Nephilim for what they were to me, as all my family was dear?

But no, Father had Spoken, and I was his Messenger. Doom I brought down upon my half-mortal kin, and in the act I brought the end to myself as well. Where a being of water, health, family, and communion had stood, now lay the sob-wracked corpse of an archangel. 

Loki held me within his skin and wept alongside. 

I knew not what my true path was, but this was not it. 


	3. I Found Myself In You

I fled myself and found refuge within him. Loki was balm, boon, and saboteur, grateful and graceful for my company. Never jealous, never impatient, for only my sake was Loki docile.

We soon found greeting in flesh and, in that way, Loki introduced to me the art of pleasure, that of his body and mind as mine. We grew close. Then closer.

I threw myself into his life and he descended into mine, until that which may be called a boon was demanded by his own lips, by his own will, for my sake. 

"Enough," he said, and that was enough.

The next day he cast me from his mind momentarily and sought this boon among his own kind. When I was allowed to return, he smiled in total concealment. 

 _Ah,_ I knew then, _the Trickster was my companion that day._

"Come," he demanded, and I joined with him. I had never learned how to resist. His body, my body, stretched and burned to fit us both inside its gates. "Learn," he demanded then, and I had never before loved that voice as much as I did then. 

Loki taught me that it was mine. The hands he ran down bare skin were mine, the burden of masculinity between the yet-young thighs, the strength of what was his hair and the allure of what was his eyes, it was mine. At the height of masturbation, he withdrew from me. 

Ah, but I had _learned_. The hand under my will did not falter. The pleasure did not cease. My body burned.

"Good," Loki said, and withdrew from me further, across the distance of my mind and into open air, coalescing into a being my mirror, his twin in appearance and yet, somehow I knew, still the whole of me. We were two souls in one body, one body in two places; we were Loki, he the trickster and I the angel, demigod both as one being. 

"How?" I asked in the voice of my friend, the friend who would give me anything, even his body, his identity, I asked in the voice I now owned. 

And yet he never told me. 


	4. We Are Two

Moments after Loki cut Sif's hair, Gabriel caught up to him. 

"Why are you doing this?"

Loki stopped, turned from the darkness of the night to view his other half, continued walking even as he turned to reach Gabriel's side faster. Tears were hidden in his soul, tears that could not be shed by his form. Gabriel shed them for him. "Why are you doing this?" the crying man repeated, and again, "Why?" against Loki's lips.

Loki did not answer, merely urged the rejoining of two halves, seeking understanding in oneness. Loki was indulged, for a time, but then was pushed back into his own form and asked, again, "Why?" Both faces contorted with the god's pain, yet the angel still did not understand. "Why do this?" 

"You left Heaven to find love with me. I have love here yet, but naught else; where do I go to find peace?"

"To me," said his companion then, doubtless. "To me, and we will suffer and love, always, together." 

"Gabriel," said Loki, and Gabriel gasped at his given name spoken so sweetly, so tenderly, but with reproach. "Gabriel, love alone is not enough."

"It is!" Gabriel insisted, kissing Loki desperately, wanting communion and _having_ it, but feeling more empty because of the indulgence. "Please, Loki, it _is."_

"No," Loki repeated. "It is not." 

And Loki gave to him all his love. He gave it in all ways, upon the earthen bed that was the planet's whole, heedless of weather or watchers. Even then, basking in the presence of such doubtless adoration, Gabriel whimpered and wished he could come closer, wished that they could be somehow more than what they already were. 

"You see? It is not." Loki placed his head upon Gabriel's chest, hearing his own heartbeat from the outside. "And what you and I have is more than love. You see that, don't you?" 

"I do," Gabriel replied. _But even that,_ it went unspoken, _was not enough._  Gabriel sobbed into Loki's hair. Again, in softer tones, he asked, "Why did you do it?"

"Why does anyone do anything?" Loki kissed the skin above Gabriel's beating heart. "I cut her hair, her vain and glory, and she hugged me. She spake words only in understanding, never censure, _giving_ me her hair to be shorn, and yet I left to be punished another day. I know not how her husband shall bring me pain, nor how I will escape Thor's wrath, but I am content for now. Are you not?" 

Gabriel pulled Loki close again, closer, rekindling their lovemaking. "No," he said to the hollow of Loki's throat. "I am not content." 

 


	5. And I Am Alone

Gabriel entered the cave where Loki was condemned until Ragnarök for the murder of Baldur. 

He felt drawn, exposed; no pleasure left unmuted by circumstance, not even that of finally being reunited with his other half. He turned his eyes to the woman perched above Loki. To her, his eternal rival in Loki's affection, though yet a close friend in the same way, he bowed his head. "Sigyn. I beg of you, leave us."

Sigyn laughed, a cold and bitter sound. "I lose my son by his brother's hands, and now you ask me to lose my husband, too?" 

"I am Loki," Gabriel said softly. "Am I not your husband, also?" 

At this, Sigyn flinched. But she nodded slowly, wary but ever faithful. "That you are, I see now." She shifted, both hands cupping the bowl held so carefully over Loki's face. "Then protect him, as I have, and call for me when you might leave, and I shall be your reprieve in turn." 

Gabriel placed his hands over hers on the bowl. "I thank you," he whispered, and watched passively as she left. 

They stayed silent in grief for some time. One hand kept stroking the remnants of their Narvi, their son, laid bare against Loki's skin. Either could have cried, but neither did. There were some things too dark to be shared, the least among them sorrow. 

Loki broke the silence. "Aren't you going to ask?" A cold, broken laugh answered him. "I have a reason. Not a pleasant one, not a good one, but I did it for a reason, Gabriel. Aren't you going to ask? Don't you want to know?"

The former archangel laughed harder, still parsing his tears. "No, Loki. I am not going to ask. I do not want to know. Please, no." 

Loki nodded. He could give the man his ignorance, at least. "Then I have a favor to ask, Gabriel." 

The laughter heightened in pitch, and Gabriel broke off with a cold sob. "Then ask it," he snarled, "and don't leave me in suspense. Is it for my death? Or is it for my life? That, in living, I should take my stance in your stead upon the rocks we are bound to, underneath the pouring venom of our lives?" 

Loki seemed surprised. "No, Gabriel." And then again, with passion. _"No."_

 _"Then what?"_ Gabriel cried. For all that his shoulders shook, his hands holding the bowl of venom steady never faltered. "What do you _want?"_

"Look at me, Gabriel," came the soft request. When their eyes met, Loki continued. "You know what is to come-- no, shh, do not cry. Even now your pain hurts me. You know. Our fate was not meant to be a happy one. So I ask of you, Gabriel, to change it." 

Then, Gabriel's hands faltered. Just a flinch, and the bowl tilted slightly, splashing venom onto his hand. He flicked it away without a care; Where Loki would have writhed in pain, Gabriel took the pain as a matter of course, accepting it and moving on. Loki cried out, and Gabriel moved further on top of him, hunching over until they shared breath once more, to protect him with his body because he had failed at protecting his mind. 

Gabriel's breath came out shakily, and his arms shook with the strain to hold the bowl above and behind his head. "How?"

"You are an archangel yet, Gabriel. You know the future and the past and, most importantly, you know _ours._ Where I have gone wrong, you can fix it. Please, Gabriel. Turn back the clock. Make the pain go away." 

_Fix your own hurts. I cannot find the right answers for you any longer._

Everything he said was serious, and Gabriel could not deny Loki anything. He had never been able to; For all of his life, he hoped he never had need to. He kissed Loki deeply and threw himself into that touch, that connection, all that was left of their bond now that they had walked for so long without the other inside their skin. The angel sobbed heavily and Loki swallowed that offering readily, and Gabriel, who never truly had _need_ of a body, forgot its necessity once more: His essence came up and around them, wings in truth now, golden in a way that would purge from a mortal their very eyes. 

Loki saw his true form again and, at last, wept alongside his brother in arms. He felt himself melting into Gabriel, melting into what they had once striven to disconnect, to separate, he felt himself becoming a part of the archangel instead of the torn man becoming a mere part of himself.

They threw away the bowl, not caring that it hit the ground and splashed. Venom poured down his scalp but, really, who could care? One hand cupped Loki's skull and the other formed an ancient sigil in the air. 

Gabriel had acquiesced. The world snapped out of place. 

And when it returned, Baldur was alive. And Loki, the two separate beings, were together in flesh once more. 

So they began again.

 

 


End file.
